


Touch Starved

by RavenCurls



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, Wicked - All Media Types, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: F/M, Romance, Yearning, fiyeraba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:15:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23607418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenCurls/pseuds/RavenCurls
Summary: "Humans crave for contact and affection, Fifi, and we'll starve if we don't get it, just like how we'll starve if there is no food." A fiyeraba one-shot.
Relationships: Elphaba Thropp/Fiyero Tigelaar, Fiyero Tigelaar/Galinda Upland
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Touch Starved

It was a perfect afternoon, all blue sky and gentle breeze, and Fiyero Tiggular was bored.

“Isn’t this perfect?” Galinda asked him as she fed him a small piece of her strawberry cake. His perfect girlfriend had suggested to lunch at one of the newly opened cafes in school when their class ended thirty minutes ago. Their table was just outside the café, with comfortable couches and shades provided by the wide awning (Galinda would never sit under the sun). He nodded, ever the perfect boyfriend.

But as with many other occasions, the girls were soon engrossed in their own activities. Pfannee and Shenshen started a tickling game with the ferocity of a pair of Kittens, their fingers jabbing at each other’s weak spots. The former seemed to have the upper hand and Shenshen screamed before she suddenly pushed the Munchkin down and attacked her, sending her friend into wild laughter. Fiyero was seated between Pfannee and Galinda, his hand on the back of her seat, a glass of wine in his other hand. He was glad that he was wearing his sunglasses; he could observe almost anyone without being noticed. Galinda turned to her right and chatted with Milla while she rested her hand on Fiyero’s thigh, out of habit more than anything else. The prince sat up and reached for a sandwich.

The two girls stopped their game and joined in the conversation. They changed their topic and began to talk about shopping (as usual). Fiyero let his mind wandered, occasionally making a non-committal sound or smile when Galinda touched him on his arm. It had been less than three months since he came to Shiz, and all the excitement and thrill of getting his schoolmates to live the unexamined life and dating the prettiest girl had faded like a badly dyed shirt that had been left under the sun for too long. 

Nothing interested him anymore. Perhaps it was Shiz, or perhaps it was a symptom of that terminal illness called growing up. He was bored with going to party after party, of making the same small talk with the boys and flirting with the girls. He was even sick of being the centre of attention all the time, sick of the girls batting their eyelashes at him. Just then, he felt something rubbing up against his leg under the table. He gave it a kick and was rewarded by the sight of a grimace on Pfannee’s face. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and then she did it again. He kicked her again, harder this time, and wondered aloud on why girls were so touchy-feely all the time. 

Galinda tried to explain to him then.

“Humans have souls, Fifi, and souls are meant to be touched.” She placed her hand on his biceps as she said so, eager to show off the brainier side of her. “We yearn for the human touch the moment we’re born. We gravitate towards smiles and kindness. I’ve read an article where researchers split a group of infants into two groups. In the first group, their caregivers were given permission to touch the children, to hug them and kiss them. In the second group, the caregivers were given strict instructions that they are not allowed to hold them nor kiss the children, and the second group of children grew up weak and sickly. A child who grows up without touch will wither and die. Humans crave for contact and affection, Fifi, and we’ll starve if we don’t get it, just like how we’ll starve if there is no food.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to be so hideocous that no one wants to be my friend, let alone touch me,” Shenshen squealed, rubbing non-existent goosebumps on her arms in mock disgust. 

“Sickly. Sick. Wilt. Just like a plant,” Pfannee emphasized on the last sentence, and the two girls laughed.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. We will never let you starve like that,” Pfannee said, taking the opportunity to put a hand on his thigh. He lifted her hand away with his thumb and finger as if she was roadkill, and he wished at that moment that he did not have his sunglasses so that she could see him rolling his eyes. The Munchkin girl laughed again as if she found it amusing ,and she winked at Galinda as she touched him again, taking liberties with the prince and getting away with it.

“Oh, Pfannee,” Galinda admonished her gently, giggling at the same time.

Fiyero tried to stifle a yawn and scanned the horizon. Perhaps he would see a friend and used him to excuse himself from this prolonged session. His eyes landed on a girl, standing out in the crowd even though he knew that that was the last thing she wanted. Her hair was braided tightly, not a strand out of place, and her long school skirt reached her boots. Every inch of her skin was covered, except for her face and hands. She moved along the corridor, alone, and Fiyero could not help but noticed the way she seemed to shuffle her right foot.

Galinda noticed her roommate at the same moment and jumped to her feet, waving frantically at the green girl and calling her name. Fiyero looked away.

“Elphie!”

The green girl stopped in her steps and, after more than a moment’s hesitation (in the prince’s opinion), made her way towards the blonde.

Fiyero sank lower in the couch, tapping his fingers on his thigh. On his other side, Pfannee whispered something to Shenshen, and the two girls sniggered. Fiyero was pretty sure that it was something insulting, no, he was _sure_ that it was something insulting about the newcomer, and he kept his eyes averted, not wanting to be drawn into the conversation.

“Hi Galinda,” Elphaba greeted the blonde when she reached their table. Her arms were loaded with several hard copies from the library.

“Good afternoon, Elphaba,” Fiyero called out, waving his fingers, not wanting to be ignored. 

“Good afternoon, Fiyero,” she replied. There was this awkwardness in the air as both of them ran out of things to say, but Fiyero was saved from embarrassment when his girlfriend spoke again.

“Elphie, we are planning to go to Town this evening. Do you want to come along?” 

Fiyero could hear the groans beside him, and the way the green fingers tightened their grip on the books told him that she had heard it too.

Elphaba shook her head, and Fiyero interrupted before she could come up with an excuse.

“Yes, you should come.” 

She looked at Fiyero in surprise, and so did Galinda, and the latter turned back to Elphaba a second later, her hand reaching out, pausing in mid-year when her green roommate took a step back subconsciously. “Yes, you should. We’re going for shopping and ice cream. It’ll be fun.”

But Elphaba only shook her head again. “Thank you for the offer, Galinda, but I got homework to complete tonight.”

“But it’s Friday!”Galinda exclaimed. “You got the whole weekend to finish those... hideocous homework.”

“There’s a lot to do. But thank you for your offer.”

“Alright then,” Galinda pouted. “I’ll see you later, Elphie.”

“See you later, Galinda,” Elphaba replied as she walked away.

“See you around, Elphaba,” Fiyero called after her brightly. He thought that she did not hear him, but she paused in her tracks and nodded slightly before she continued on her way.

“She’s been studying so hard,” Galinda sighed. “Look at the number of books that she borrowed from the library every day. They are so heavy she can’t even walk properly.”

On the other side of the table, the two other girls were whispering to each other. Fiyero could only hear snippets of their conversation, but he knew what they were gossiping about – the way Elphaba had flinched from Galinda’s touch.

“I bet she has never known another person’s touch in her whole life,” Pfannee said. Shenshen giggled in response, slipping her hand into the Munchkin girl’s hand, the way girls of their age always did. 

“Touch starved,” Shenshen added, laughing when Pfannee added on. “That explains why she is so skinny. She’s wilting. Like a plant.”

Galinda tried to catch his attention then; she touched him lightly. 

“Were you listening, Fiyero?” she chided him lightly. Fiyero smiled at her apologetically. “Sorry, just lost in thoughts for a moment. It’s a great day to be out. What were you saying?” He wrapped his hand around the fingers that were curled around his arm.

Galinda smiled. “I was saying that Elphie is such a great friend and roommate. She knew that I can only sleep in total darkness, so she will go out to study once it is my bedtime. Isn’t she thoughtful?” She beamed at her other girlfriends, totally oblivious to the fact that while she and the green girl had become good friends after the party at Ozdust, the rest were not so receptive.

* * *

Two nights later, Fiyero found himself wandering the grounds of Shiz alone. There was a summer storm brewing, and he gave up on sleep after tossing and turning on his bed for more than an hour. He looked at the sky as he walked across the campus grounds. The clouds were low, and flashes of lightning lit the sky of the darkest blue with blinding white, and it was only when the wind blew into the corridor that he realised that it was raining as well. He walked to the end of the corridor; there was no shelter to the next building, and he would get wet if he continued in that direction. 

He turned around, ready to retrace his steps back to his room.

Just then, another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky on his left. It illuminated a familiar figure as she dashed across the open space between two buildings, her arms hugging a book close to her chest, a bag slung across her shoulders. She stopped the moment she reached the next building and checked on the book that she had with her. Seemingly satisfied with her inspection, the green girl moved in and disappeared from sight after turning a corner.

Fiyero remembered Galinda’s comment on how Elphaba would go elsewhere to study at night so that she would not disturb her beauty sleep, but there was something that did not feel right.

He stood where he was, hands in pockets, and looking at the spot where he last saw her. Why would she want to go to one of the unused buildings to study? Had she lost her sense of direction? Or perhaps she had lost her mind from all those studying. He counted to ten, twenty, and then to a hundred, two hundred, waiting for the green girl to realise that she had gone to the wrong building and to make her way back. But three hundred came and there was still no sight of her. It was as if she had disappeared into the thin air, or perhaps he had imagined her in the first place.

He looked at the sky again, wondering how wet he could get, if it was worth fulfilling his curiosity.

Fiyero had heard of the proverb that curiosity kills a cat, but he had never heard anyone say that curiosity could kill a prince.

The Arjiki took a deep breath and stepped into the rain.

* * *

He found her in one of the unused classrooms at the end of the building, the thumping sounds from inside alerting him to her presence. All the classroom doors in the corridor were shut to keep out intruders, except for the one that she was in. He smiled at how unsubtle she could be, how much she believed in her cloak of invisibility. The door was slightly ajar, barely wide enough for him, and he timed his entry into the room with another flash of lightning, just another grotesque shadow on the wall, easing his way into the room without her noticing. The storm was going to be his friend tonight.

The door opened to the back of the classroom, with rows of benches leading down to the front. Her book and bag were on one of the benches closest to the podium. She had brought a few candles with her and had placed them on the floor, outlining a perimeter. The wicks were trimmed short, and the flames glowed as if magicked.

She stood at one of the corners, almost hidden in the shadows. As Fiyero watched, she stretched out a hand, followed by the other. Her well-worn boots peeked out of her long skirt, out of place in the soft light. A pause, as she corrected her own posture, and then she gingerly put out a leg, the toe of her shoe pointed. A simple twirl, stiff and slightly off balance. She stopped with a huff, went back to the starting point and started again. Each subsequent attempt was slightly better than the one before as her muscles warmed up, and by the tenth attempt or so, her first twirl was followed by a second, a third, and a few more, before she reached the opposite corner of the space. She leaned against the table usually used by the teacher, the grating sound as her weight pushed back the furniture loud in the room. 

He took the opportunity to take a few steps closer, the darkness his accomplice.

The green girl bent down slightly and flexed her leg to ease a cramp of her calf before she straightened again, and eyed her starting point warily. She stretched out a hand again, turning her wrists like a flower, and Fiyero recalled the similar gesture improvised by Galinda the first night they were at Ozdust. Elphaba had looked so awkward during the dance then, and while she was still not as graceful as Galinda, much of that awkwardness was gone as she turned a wrist, followed by another. The result of much effort put in, of practising a thousand times or more. 

She turned a full circle where she was standing, flapping her arms as if she was learning to fly. She paused, her brows knitted at how inelegant she was before she made another attempt, slower this time round. The candles painted moving shadows on the walls, of dark flowers in a gentle breeze. She made up an impromptu move, swinging her arms and legs at the same time, and laughed softly at how it turned out, shaking her head at the same time. He had never heard her laugh before, and he wondered why.

She looked up then, straight into the darkness and right at him and Fiyero froze, wondering if he had made a noise without himself knowing. He held his breath, and it was when her eyes swept along the horizon that he realised that she was not looking at him but at the perimeter of her practice area. She narrowed her eyes, the shadows accentuating the determination on her face, and then she took a deep breath, exhaling as she started to move.

He could see the hesitation initially, the way her feet almost skittered to a stop at the end of each spin instead of continuing, but her confidence grew after the first few twirls. As she turned faster, each spin brought up the hem of her skirt, its shadows reminding Fiyero of a dozen birds taking to the air. There was no music, but he could almost hear the beat inside her head with the steps and momentum that she had established. Her smile broadened as she continued, lighting up her face the way no lights ever could.

She slowed down considerably and without warning, her steps poised and measured for exactly three counts, and then she picked up her pace again, her laughter echoing in the room when she realised that she managed to pull off the moves. Fiyero smiled with her and, before he knew it, he stepped into the circle of light just as she spun past.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and reached for her hand before he lifted it above her head and gave her a series of twirls, aided by her momentum. Her eyes widened in surprise, and he was suddenly aware of so many things – how she was almost as tall as him, the flecks of mica in her eyes, the stray lock of hair framing her jaw, the freckles across her cheeks, the way her fingers rested gently in his, her grey lips that were so close to his. One thousand and one thoughts that suddenly erupted in his mind, and they were all about her.

And most of all, the impulse to bridge the inches between their lips. His hand went to her waist, his eyes to her lips…

But she stumbled when she took a step back and hissed as she rolled an ankle. Fiyero took a step forward and pulled her to him. Her hand went to his arm, and he was dimly aware of how his skin seemed to burn at the place where she had touched him.

She was the first to move away again, withdrawing her touch, and she hobbled to the bench that was just beside them. He knelt before her, unable to explain this newly formed need to be close to her. Unable to explain why the part of his arm where she had held onto to break her fall was burning, as if she had electrified him, just like how the lightning had electrified the air outside.

Unable to explain why he was unable to pull his eyes away from her face.

Until she looked away and broke the spell, a tint of blush darkening her skin.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she spoke to the ground.

“Neither are you. You’re supposed to be studying, according to Galinda,” he told her.

She looked at him sharply, misinterpreting his tone, and shifted away from him, ignoring the pain on her ankle. 

He could have let her go, but he shot out a hand and grabbed her wrist. 

“Wait.” 

She looked at him again, a questioning look in her eyes. And wariness, the expression that he had seen on her so often.

“I… Let me look at your ankle.” He pulled her down to the bench again, ignoring her resistance. He knelt and loosened her shoelace before he eased her foot out of her boot and rested it on his knee. Her ankle had begun to swell, but that was not the only thing that he noticed. 

He looked up at her.

“You’re not going to tell Galinda, are you?” she asked after a moment’s hesitation, her voice much softer than before.

“That I cause her best friend to sprain her ankle?” Fiyero gave a smile, trying to lighten the atmosphere. She smiled at his joke, just barely, but did not reply.

“Dancing all night is not the way to go, no matter how much you love it. You need to make sure that your feet have enough rest, and you need a pair of shoes that fits well. I have some ointment in my room that is good for blisters. Apply it twice a day, and you’ll recover in no time.” He resolved to pass it to her as soon as he could.

“You don’t have to…”

“You need to do proper warm-up too,” he added, ignoring her light protests. 

One of the candles guttered, sending long shadows flickering on the walls and catching Fiyero’s attention. Their shadows were all around them, joined as one. Her foot was still on his knee, his hand cradling her calf. He caught her looking at them too, and she let her skirt fall as she put her foot on the ground, covering her leg. Fiyero remembered then how the other girls had cracked jokes at her expense, saying that she must be dying for the human touch. And how she had taken a step back when Galinda reached for her. He wanted to reach for her again, to prove them wrong.

“And classrooms are not exactly the place for dancing. Why are you dancing here all alone when there are so many dance halls in Town?” He realised how meaningless his words were the moment they left his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he added after a few seconds. She shook her head, and he had no idea if she was rejecting his suggestion or declining his apology.

He looked at the space between them, the darkness between her blistered foot and his knee.

“I still remember how they laughed at me the night at Ozdust.” Her voice was low and mellow, and it was as if her words were like music that flowed through a dense forest in the dark – mysterious, inviting, and Fiyero could not help but lean closer. “I remember how Galinda looked when she danced. How beautiful she was. How graceful she was. I don’t know if she’s born with that grace, or if it took her years of practice. How everyone can dance except for me. I’m not talented, and I definitely don’t have, and won’t have, years of training. But I’m not stupid and I’m not clumsy. I’m not a Vegetable. I can dance.” The last three sentences were spoken through clenched teeth, laced with steel. Her fingers twisted the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles pale.

“But you are not supposed to dance until your feet blister and bleed.”

“But I don’t feel the pain when I dance,” she implored. “When I danced, I forgot the pain. I forget… the way they look at me. I forget everything.” Her troubles, the hatred her father had for her, the embarrassment Nessa felt to be associated with her. “When I finished a difficult move, I could almost believe that I’m…” she gestured helplessly. But something in Fiyero’s eyes made her continue. 

“That I’m beautiful.” 

Would he understand what she was trying to say? This beautiful, popular prince who sometimes had a sadness in his eyes that was gone so fast she wondered if she had imagined it? But Fiyero nodded, and at that moment, his acknowledgement was all that she needed.

“But all alone, in this room?”

“I don’t need any company. I don’t feel alone. Just because you’re surrounded by people does not mean that you are not alone.”

Was she talking about him? Had she been watching him all this while when he thought that he was the one doing the watching? Did she see through his facade when he pretended to be interested in a conversation? When he had to laugh at a joke that he heard hundreds of times before?

She wanted to add, how she saw him sometimes, smiling, laughing, but how the smile never reached his eyes. How the smile dropped the moment he thought that no one was watching. But who was she to criticize the popular prince? How could she assume that he felt lonely even when he was surrounded by people, when he was so popular?

Fiyero looked at the boot on the floor and back at her again.

“Promise me something. Stopped dancing for two weeks.” He continued before she could brush him aside. “Let your feet recovered. And when you’ve recovered, I’ll teach you how to dance. Proper dance with proper steps.” He watched her as the disbelief flooded her face. 

“No more dancing alone in the dark,” he added. “You’ll have a partner. Me.” And suddenly he felt foolish that he was proposing to teach his girlfriend’s roommate how to dance while he was still on his knee. She frowned, and for a moment he thought that she did not understand what he was saying. 

“Why?” she whispered.

No, she was not dying for the human touch. She just thought that she did not deserve it, did not deserve any care and concern from anyone, did not deserve any smile or kind words. Perhaps she was afraid that any kindness shown would be taken away just as quickly, because there was nothing worse than being given a taste of something and had it taken away. 

This girl, who most probably had not done anything wrong in her life except to be born green.

He braced his hands on the bench and straightened his arms so that he could look straight at her eyes.

“Because I was born with two left feet?” He deadpanned. She laughed softly at his joke, and Fiyero chuckled along with her, and there was something so beautiful when she laughed that he could not help but be mesmerized. He looked at the crinkling of her eyes, and way her shoulders shook, the curve of her mouth. 

He reached for her hand. They were coarse, rough from pushing a wheelchair every day for so many years, but it was warmer than any hand that he had held before. And it was as if he could feel the pulsing of her heartbeat through her fingertips. They were so close that all he had to do was to lean in and he would taste the sweetness of her lips. 

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes straying to her lips, and he felt, rather than saw, her mirroring his actions before she stopped herself with a gasp.

“I … I got to go… “ she said, and she was gone before he could say another word.

He looked around him, at the book and candles that she had left behind.

He looked at his palm. He could still feel the throbbing of her pulse as if her hand was still in his. It pounded like the beats of a drum, coursing through his blood and weaving with his heartbeats.

It was as if it was the first time he had touched someone, truly touched someone.

The girls had gotten it wrong all this while. 

She was not the one who was touch starved.


End file.
